


Ghost

by FilmEater



Series: Chance Encounters [7]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilmEater/pseuds/FilmEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ghost from the past resurfaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost

There was only one night-light on in the room, in the farthest corner from the crib. Other than the crib, there was a chest of drawers standing against a wall, a little closet by the door and a rocking chair which was hardly ever used. The huge beanbag in the corner was a favorite, though. Right now, however, it wasn’t being used as well. Ella held the baby in her arms, already starting to feel the strain but ignoring it, and paced around the room, singing quietly. Her little baby, her daughter. A month and a half later, it was still hard to believe that she’d actually survived the ordeal of pushing a gigantic alien body out of the tiny little hole her own body provided for the process. And now she had this. Breathing against her, eyes closed but not sleeping yet. She looked like Tom, minus the forehead, and her eyes would likely turn brown once Ella started weaning her off breast-milk.

She paced back and forth, back and forth, humming an entirely inappropriate song. Not that it mattered. Back and forth, back and forth, her mind racing, a storm raging inside. Why? Why now? Why at all? She couldn’t make sense of this. One short little email has managed to derail her completely for the better part of an entire day. She remembered every word of it by now. Could hear his voice in her mind, even though she hasn’t actually heard it in years. It was still clear:

_I read you had a baby with some actor. Mazal-Tov, I guess._

_Hope you’re well,_

_J._

Two lines. Less than twenty words. How he could get under her skin so easily and just… cling… for years and years and years, was unfathomable. How he still had such power over her baffled her. She hadn’t thought of him in such a long time. And with one little email, he’d managed to ruin everything.

Ella paced, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. In her arms, Amelia had fallen asleep. She kept pacing. It was too soon to put her into the crib, and holding her helped Ella keep control of herself. If she set her down, she might just sit down and cry right then and there. And she will not shed another tear for him. Not a single one.

The door opened with a whooshing sound against the carpeted floor and Tom poked his head in, he caught the expression on her face and looked at her quizzically. She just shook her head. Everything was fine. He nodded, mouthed “Tea” and closed the door.

It was still strange, actually living with him. In his house. She already referred to it as ‘home’, but sometimes it was still Tom’s apartment to her, and she an intruder. Except he’d invited her in, turned the guest room into a bedroom for their child and was doing his best. He’d taken another stage role, in another Shakespeare production at the West End, so that he could be home with her. With them. They had just under five months until her maternity leave ended. Borrowed time. That’s what they always had, just some borrowed time. At least this time it was longer than a week. Just enough time for him to realize what a terrible mistake he’d made and be grateful she’d refused his attempt at a proposal all those months ago. Instead of doing any of that, however, so far he’d been doing laundry, taking shifts with her to get up to Amelia in the middle of the night, and making her tea late at night without asking if she wanted it. He knew.

She had to put the baby in her crib. Ella knew this, but didn’t want to do it. She paced back and forth, back and forth. Everything was going too fast. Or too slow. Or too sideways. It just wasn’t right. Except for the little creature in her arms, nothing was right. She took a deep breath and gently put Amelia in the crib, covering her with the blanket. The baby stirred but didn’t wake. She watched her for a full minute before gathering the strength to leave the room.

In the kitchen, Tom was sitting in his chair by the table, a mug of tea in front of him and a book open on the table. He was holding it open with the long fingers of one hand. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons were undone, revealing smooth skin with just a hint of hair right where the third button was. His legs stretched far under the table, feet coming out from underneath the other end. He had no shoes on, only dark grey socks that disappeared into the pant legs of his darker grey trousers. He hadn’t changed when he got home – he went straight for the tea. No, Ella corrected herself. Except for Amelia _and Tom_ , nothing was right.

He looked up at her and frowned, lines forming on his forehead, “What’s the matter?”

Ella walked over, sat in her chair, wrapped her hands around the mug full of hot tea he’d set out for her. She took a sip. It was perfect. Just the way she liked it. He shifted in his chair, and his legs sneaked underneath her feet, lifting them off the floor to rest on top. They’d sat that way almost every evening nowadays. He probably knew something was wrong just from the fact she didn’t sit down properly right away.

“How was your day?” She asked, deflecting.

“It was fine. Rehearsals and then an interview in the evening and meetings afterwards. Nothing exciting to report,” he answered. He marked the page in his book with his bookmark and set the book away, took a sip of tea and just looked at her, waiting.

She took out her phone, pulled up the email and showed it to him. He read, but she could tell from the expression on his face he wasn’t comprehending. “It’s _him_ ,” she said, as if that’s all the explanation it took. “It’s Jack.”

“ _The_ Jack?”

Ella nodded. “What does he want form me?” she asked. Her voice was breaking. She took a breath, swallowed. She hated it when her voice broke while she spoke. It sounded pathetic. It felt pathetic. “I know what he wants,” she said into the silence that stretched. “He’s fishing. He’s checking. Why won’t he just leave me alone?”

“Why won’t you?” Tom asked.

“Because,” she said.

“Because what?”

“Because why didn’t he love me?” Ella blinked, rubbed at the tear that escaped her eye. She was half sadness, half rage, and she wasn’t sure which half produced the tear, but she didn’t appreciate it. No tears. There would be no more tears. She took a breath. She shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Not right now. And certainly not with Tom.

His eyes clouded, his expression otherwise entirely neutral. “Do you still love him?” he asked.

“I love _you_ ,” without pause, without hesitation. If there was something that was still clear to her throughout this whole situation it’s this. She loved Tom.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Ella answered. “No,” she added after a moment.

“Then why are you so bothered?”

“I don’t know,” she said again. Her tea was getting cold. She reached for it, drank half the mug in a few long, warm gulps. It helped calm her nerves.

“What did you reply?”

“Nothing,” another sip and she put the mug down. “I have nothing to say to him.”

“Yet he still manages to rile you up with two lines of text,” Tom stated. He wasn’t happy. She didn’t need to know him well to see that. Her stomach tightened into knots. Damn it. She didn’t ask for any of this.

“That’s the part that gets me the most!” she said.

“So you’re riled up because he riles you up?”

There was a pause. His eyebrows raised up in question, then he chuckled, a half-bitter, half-amused chuckle. Ella sighed, chuckled too. “I’m ridiculous.”

“You are,” he agreed.

“I don’t know why you even keep me around,” she was fishing now. She knew it. He knew it.

Tom smiled, “You feed me,” he said, “And although you’re a bit bony, you’re nice to cuddle with. And you smell good.”

Ella chuckled, “I guess that works. I feel bad now,” she added, trying for a serious look but failing miserably, “I just keep you around ‘cause you’re pretty.”

He laughed then, a genuine, relaxed laughter she hadn’t expected. Not yet. Not with the weight of her ghost still in the air. He laughed, and the weight dispersed, evaporated. This is what true magic was. Making ghosts disappear with the sound of a laugh. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth for that laughter. For the power it held. The power to unmake whatever wrongs others have made.

“Drink up,” Tom said, motioning towards her mug of tea. He yawned then, and before he even closed his mouth, Ella mirrored him. He burst out laughing again, “I love it when you do that.”

She frowned, “it’s a natural reaction!”

“…right,” he said. “Yawning is a natural reaction when you see someone else yawning, but you yawn just from hearing the word ya-“ he stopped mid-word when she couldn’t suppress another yawn, and started laughing. Ella half-yawned, half-laughed.

“Stop it!”

“Yawn, yawn, yawn…” Tom said lazily, leaning back in his chair. Ella growled, yawned again.

“You’re mean,” she stated, getting up, “I’m going to bed, you’re washing the dishes.” That’ll teach him.

He caught her wrist when she stepped near him, pulled her towards him. Not strong enough to make her lose her balance, but enough to make her step in his direction just to stay on her feet. A moment later he had her sitting on his lap, arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

“I don’t like having to compete with a ghost,” he said.

Ella looked at him. Again, when it was actually important, she couldn’t figure out what the expression on his face meant. His words were straightforward enough, however.

“There’s no competition,” she said. “You’ve won a long time ago.”

He shook his head, “You didn’t see the look on your face. I haven’t won.”

Ella rolled her eyes. Men were such idiots sometimes. She was an idiot, too, but of a completely different sort. “Was it anything like this?” she looked at him then, the beautiful man with oceans for eyes, who had magic powers to no one else but her. Her heart beat a bit faster, the knots in her stomach changed. He shook his head slowly. “Good,” Ella said. “Then you’ve won.”

“Then why-“

“Because I’m an idiot,” she said. “You know this. It’s not new. Because he’s like heroin. He shows up and it’s toxic and I don’t even notice until later. Until after.”

“Okay,” he said and she could feel his body relax. She hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been. She wrapped her arms around him, scooted closer, hugged him tight. He tightened his arms around her as well and took a deep breath. Ella did the same, breathing him in. Home. Right there, right now, she was home. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but him and the sleeping child in the next room. She shifted just enough to kiss him, and hoped that whatever she failed to convey with words, he’d understand from her kiss.


End file.
